


He Never Even Felt The Fall

by fuckyourbaguettes



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 06:45:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10211888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyourbaguettes/pseuds/fuckyourbaguettes
Summary: This story is kind of long, but there is only one chapter. It is a one shot. It is sad, kind of poetic, but i like it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> There is depression and suicide. I have warned you.

Alexander had been told many times that he attracts trouble, much like a moth to a flame. He disagrees. He prefers to think that he and Trouble have somewhat of a mutual attraction, and, overall, their relationship is a happy one. Sure, they had been through some rocky terrain, and one had screwed over the other a few times here and there, but they always made up in time to prove some idiot wrong with a few well-placed words and a figurative slap to the face. It was the most tasteful relationship Alexander had with anyone. And yet, like all good things in his life, it couldn’t last. As fall faded into winter and air conditioners fell into general disuse, so too did the relationship between the boy and his metaphorical counterpart plummet through the air and into the cold water of reality.  
When Alexander found himself reveling in the figuratively, and oftentimes literally, bloody aftermath of a particularly distasteful situation, he often found it helpful to count from five to one until the residual pain had faded into oblivion. The predicament that the boy had found himself presented with only moments before had started in the way that so many of them had started before: with the incessant opening of his mouth. 

Why his mouth could never stay closed was a mystery to Alexander. Why his words could never remain hidden behind the blank façade he usually wore was a wonder to him. It was such a simple matter to get a rise out of him, for the fire that smoldered in his eyes never really died, but continued to burn, feasting on the ammunition shot at him by other people. With each insult, he grew stronger. With each curse, the fires blazed brighter. 

"But they aren’t really fires, are they?" thought to himself for a moment. "No", A voice in his head replied. "They are bombs, ready to blow at a moments notice."

It was thoughts like these that kept Alexander isolated from other kids. It was these voices and their warnings that kept him from becoming too close to others. And while most people saw him as a freak, he saw himself as prepared. No bad experience could force him to build walls around his heart because the walls were already built. But no matter how many layers of cold stares and empty promises surrounded his figurative chest cavity, they could not protect the outside world from the fire that burned within him. And it was this fire that tore open his mouth and flung out his words, words that stung like whips on bare skin, words that tore at his victims’ heartstrings, snapping each one like they were twigs on a dead tree. Every syllable acted as a twist of the knife that his mind had driven into their gut, each letter punctuated by another violent stab. There was no armor he couldn’t break through. What he lacked in strength of the body, he made up for in strength of the mind. He was ferocious, but also stubborn, and it was this stubbornness that was his downfall on one very specific day. 

Alexander could not tell you the events that led up to his eternal demise. He could not tell you what was said to him, nor could he tell you what he said in return. No, all he can remember was the feeling of suffocating. The feeling of his mind turning black, of the fire he had come to rely on being demolished, of the feet and hands and claws pummeling on him. Each strike to the face, to the ribs, to the legs, pushed him one step closer to the edge that he had been tottering on his entire life. Each curse and slur that was thrown at him hurt worse than the last as the fists turned his walls to dust. No, he would not be able to tell you about what drove his attackers to madness, but he could tell you about the wounds and scars that litter his body, physically, mentally, and emotionally because of it. 

But that doesn’t mean he will. 

He is a husk of the boy he used to be. He is the shell of a child who once played with angels. Trouble bit off more for him than he could chew that day, and now he is no more than a cold carcass with nothing to show for the fire that once blazed in him except for the burns and scars covering his insides. He is no longer the stars or the moon, but the blackness in between them, running on empty, nothing more than a dark face in the background. No longer does he stand in the rain and allow it to cleanse him of his worries. No longer does he bask in the cool air of winter and allow it to spur to life the embers that powered his spirit. No longer does he choose to be quiet, for now quiet is all he is capable of, the only sounds he makes being the screams in his nightmares and the sobs in the middle of the night, but even those have become numb by the painful progression of time. His old friend Trouble rarely visits anymore, and he has become too tired to make friends with the voices in his head. 

"Alleexxaaaandddeeeerrrr", sang a quiet voice one day. "Why are you so useless these days? Where has your fire gone?" Alexander would come to know this voice as Anxiety. 

"There is nothing left for him out there, obviously," whispered another voice. "There is no point in chasing any dreams if they will only lead us to our grave." This one would later make itself known as Depression. 

"And why should we ever leave the safety of this room? Everything out there is out to hurt us. This is where we can find peace." The doctors that always seemed to be hanging around Alexander would diagnose this one as a form of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but the boy merely thought of it as Paranoia, a constant buzz at the back of his mind that controlled him, made his every move cold and calculated. It made him look over his shoulder and lock his doors and sleep with a light on. It had trapped him in a cage of worry and fear that he could never be free of. 

But there was a final voice, one last demon lurking in his mind, the one that almost never saw the meager light of day anymore, yet now it raised its weary head at the sound of the others becoming unsettled. 

"Why do you listen to those ones, love?" It whispered, a small droplet of water against the violent drought that the other voices had presented their host with. "There is no need to stay hidden because of them. Yes, the world is cruel, but it is also beautiful." Alexander could not help but shut out this voice. It was False Hope, he often thought to himself. He believed that such a thing would only cause him more of the pain that he so dearly wished to escape. There was no point to torture himself with the prospect of sunlight when he knew that the light was merely the artificial fluorescents of a hospital room or another of the countless therapist’ offices. No, it was better to tune in to the banter of the voices in his head and to close out the rest of the bloodthirsty world. 

“Alex,” Alexander was vaguely aware of someone calling his name, someone that wasn’t in his head. “Alex, I need you to wake up.” He felt a hand on his shoulder, a cold vise. He could imagine that the hand was gliding up, reaching to his collar, to his neck, strangling him like a snake would a mouse. He felt his throat closing around the scream that was forcing its way through his mouth, a scream that he hadn’t even known was coming. The world was spinning, Alexander’s vision blurring in and out of focus like lights that move too quickly. The colors around him twisted and became a convoluted mass of fear, blinding his eyes to the arms that were struggling to hold him down, to comfort him. His heart beat out a fast-paced rhythm that his lungs could not match, throwing his brain into an overload of emotion and pain. He had no more control over his limbs than a small child just learning how to walk, and as he felt his brain falling in defeat to the undefeatable darkness of unconsciousness, he gave up completely on any semblance of control. As if on cue, the world slowed around him, abandoning its wild chase, every movement becoming lethargic, every voice a low hum. The bright lights faded to darkness. Alexander’s eyelids drooped, his arms and legs fell limp beside him, his throat dry and raw. His mind was a field after a hurricane, ravaged and torn to shreds, unable to gather the strength to stand. Every day was the same: a hurricane. And Alexander wasn’t sure how much longer he could survive it. 

* * *

"This is a terrible idea," Paranoia whispered into Alexander’s ear. "What if it is too loud? What if we have a panic attack in the middle of the street? What if those people come back for us?" The last part made Alexander’s stomach churn and boil. The acid in that hollow cavity rose in his throat, threatening to expel the meager lunch he had managed to choke down. Today was to be the day that Alexander faced his fears and stepped out into the blinding brightness of the world outside his door; it had been months since he had last braved the outside world, he could not allow his puny flaws to crack his resolve now. 

"They are right," Anxiety sneered, a metaphorical smirk alighting his face. "There is so much that could go wrong. Your weak mind wouldn’t be able to handle the stress of it." Alexander considered the truth behind those words, his strength weakening by the second. 

"It would be so much easier to just turn around and lie back down in your bed," piped up Depression. "There was no need to get up in the first place." By now, he was completely fractured. The ocean waves of doubt had drowned his tiny island of power, and now all that was left to do was stop struggling and allow the water to swallow him into its depths. 

"Or," a quiet voice whispered, a voice that had been buried under miles of dirt and destruction, a voice that had only now been unearthed by the tidal wave of pain. "You could go anyway." Alexander’s heart perked up at the possibility of success. "Yes, it will be frightening, and yes, things could go wrong, but things could also go right. You will never know if you don’t take that first step." Perhaps False Hope is not entirely false, Alexander found himself thinking. Perhaps this will be my chance to heal, he thought. 

"Do not listen to that one," Anxiety yelped, a panicked undertone in his voice. "They will only lead you astray."

"It is true," Depression murmured, provoking a sharp pain in his head from where its voice had cut. 

"There is nothing for you out there," added Paranoia. "Nothing but pain and suffering. Please don’t go."

"Go," whispered Hope. "Go." And with that final farewell, Alexander stepped out of the relative safety of his home and into the ringing noise of the outside world. 

* * * 

Immediately, Alexander wanted to run back inside. The bright afternoon sun shone on his face while what seemed like hundreds of cars flew by him on the street. He could hear dogs barking and people yelling and trains roaring. The smell of burnt rubber and ozone-killing gas steamed into his nose, causing tears to form in his eyes. The taste of moisture in the air hung heavily in his mouth, filling him up and choking the air from his throat. The world began spinning, the sounds running together, the sun becoming brighter and brighter, the noises becoming louder and louder, piercing his ears until they felt like they were bleeding. It was all too much to take in, too much to process, to think about, to feel. It was an overload in his mind, and it destroyed his will to take another step. 

With all the fury of a madman, Alexander ran back to the dark and quiet of his home, slamming the door on the danger of the outside world. Tears rained from his eyes and violent sobs racked his chest. His legs became unsteady beneath him and he collapsed onto the cold tiled floor, curling into as tight a ball as his bony body would allow as his mind attacked him like a starving beast would a wounded animal. 

"I told you that the world was no place for you," Anxiety howled. "It is too loud, too violent." 

"We should have stayed inside," Depression added, mumbling the phrase over and over, a wild chant that chilled Alexander’s bones. 

"What if someone saw us? What if people are coming to take us away right now as we speak? It’s too dangerous to stay here," Paranoia rambled shrilly. The voices joined together in a cacophony of sound, their screams and roars gripping Alexander’s mind. The boy clamped his hands over his ears, but he could not drown out the sounds of his demons. He began screaming, but it only seemed to feed into their fury, and they joined in, erupting into a discordant dissonance of sounds, driving nails into Alexander’s head with each decibel that it scaled. 

Suddenly, a voice cut through the din. It was soft and sweet and carried with it the deeply entrenched feelings of home, of warmth, of the kind of love and affection that Alexander had not known for a long time. 

"You did well, love," Hope breathed. "We will try again tomorrow. Do not fret." 

"But I am not strong," Alexander murmured. "My body has grown weak and my mind has followed suit. I cannot keep going." 

Hope took a moment to reply. "The world is an unforgiving place, love," she began, her voice nearly inaudible over the quiet mumblings of the so-called demons. "And it loves to hurt you." She took a moment to let her understanding sink in. "But there is no need to become afraid. Beneath the pain, there is beauty, and beneath the beauty, there is love. It merely takes a moment to find it." She waited a few seconds for a reply from Alexander, but it seemed that none would come; even the demons had quieted to hear her speak. "You will find peace, love. All it will take is some searching." 

But Alexander was tired of searching. He was tired of fighting. He was tired of getting himself out of bed every morning, only to fall on his knees under the weight of his past. He was broken, and he was tired of trying to fix himself. 

Suddenly, an idea presented itself to Alexander, floating lazily into his head, circling a few times before falling at his feet. With tentative hands, the boy lifted the idea, taking a closer look at it, shielding it from the sight of the voices that had taken root in his mind. The idea… It’s not like it was new to him, but now… Now it seemed possible. Now it seemed doable. Now it seemed like the only choice he had left. 

Picking up the shattered remains of his courage, Alexander threw them in the pit where his fire once sat. Steeling his mind, he took a step towards the door again. Then another. Then another. And before he knew it, he had his hand on the handle and was twisting the nob and stepping out onto the street. Except, this time, he did not fall down. This time, he did not reject the sights and sounds and smells, but accepted them, reveled in them, gathered them up in his arms and cradled them until they had become part of him. He offered them his affection, and they offered him strength, and with that strength, he took enough steps to get to the end of the street, where he was met with even more strength and courage. He used them to make leashes for his demons, which he tied up to a tree in his head and tamed. They could no longer control him, but watched instead as the boy made his way further into the city, to a park where he used to visit with his mother before she left him alone to take on the world. 

As Alexander walked, he passed a tree and was reminded of the time he had climbed into its branches, never fearing the earth because he knew he would not fall. He passed by a bench that he had once jumped up and over, not fearing pain because he knew his feet would not hit the wood. He stopped briefly by a bush that he had once towered over when he was small enough to fit on his mother’s shoulders. Even then he had felt no panic, for he knew that gravity was not stronger than that once-powerful woman, who refused to let him down. 

And now, as he walked up to the peak of the bridge that lay in the middle of the park, he was not worried. The bridge was tall, and under it rested sharp rocks that were constantly pounded by the rushing water, yet, even as he stood on the ledge, he did not find his heart picking up its pace, nor did his lungs struggle to breathe. He felt at ease, calm almost, as he stared into the abyss that stretched before him. 

Alexander heard a noise behind him and, turning around, he recognized a figure that he had once thought abandoned him. Trouble leaned forward and took the boy’s face in his hands, resting his lips on his forehead, bidding his old friend farewell one last time. As he again faced the edge of existence, Alexander released the shackles from his demons, beckoning for them to run for freedom while the opportunity was presented to them. To his surprise, however, they stayed put.   
We are here with you, my love, Alexander heard the musical voice of Hope sing, the sound no more than a breath on the wind, and he was bombarded with a painful bout of saudade as he realized that the voice sounded vaguely like his mother’s once did. Now, and forever. 

The boy smiled to himself. He thought about his past, about the mother he had once cared for deeply, the friend that he had found in the trouble he craved, the months he had spent tortured by the after effects of the sadistic cruelty of man, and even the voices that had gripped him so tightly and driven him to the very brink of madness. He made peace with himself, with his demons, and with the world, and even if he hadn’t, he had grown too tired to carry on fighting anymore. He took another step towards the edge, and even knowing how he would plummet, Alexander felt no fear. Instead, he felt at peace, calm with the universe, happy that he had finally found the serenity that he had always secretly hungered for. 

He and Trouble were done with their futile dance, and Alexander knew that they had always danced in vain. He lifted his foot off of the ledge and watched it dangle in the empty air. All it would take was one more move; a single tilt of his body, one last push and gravity could take care of the rest. The ever-present voices in his head had grown quiet, silent in the suspense that seemed to have gripped the world. Alexander drew a deep breath, and counted backwards from five to one. 

Five.  
He thought about how there was an entire world that he could still explore, all of the wonders that must outweigh the underlying pain. But, a voice whispered, one he had never paid any mind to before. "How would you ever make it? You are frightened of so many things. Going anywhere would only make you easy prey." 

Four.   
Alexander thought that he might be able to get help, aid from a professional, but the voice in his head was quick to bring him down off of that high. "What is there that you haven’t tried?" It asked. 

Three.  
“So what can I do?” Alexander asked aloud. “I am lost and alone and I can’t handle anything anymore. The world is too big, and I am too small. There are too many thoughts in my head that I can’t say. There is too much pain in my heart to cry out. Everything is trapped inside, destroying me, tearing me to shreds.” Alexander choked on a sob, clenching his fists by his sides, his leg still dangling over the ledge. 

Two.  
The voice spoke, and Alexander realized that it was no voice at all. It was him.   
"You take the leap."

One. 

In the end, he never even felt the fall.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like it. Feel free to leave kudos or comment. It would be greatly appreciated.


End file.
